


Voices in the Library

by scumbaganarchy



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bittersweet, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Coming Out, Corpse Desecration, Corpses, Death, Doomed Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, M/M, Mutual Pining, Necromancy, References to Frankenstein, Talking To Dead People, University, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumbaganarchy/pseuds/scumbaganarchy
Summary: Vyvyan Basterd had always been able to see ghosts, that much wasn’t new.To be quite honest, he didn’t think his ability to perceive the remnants of the dead had affected his life in a particularly meaningful way. Not in the sense that people might assume, anyhow. He hadn’t been known throughout his childhood as the weird kid who talked to people who weren’t there; he wasn’t in the business of mediumship now that he was grown; he’d learnt at a young age to pretend he wasn’t aware of ghosts, just like everybody else wasn’t. After all, if a ghost didn’t think you could see them, they were a hell of a lot less likely to hassle you with their issues, weren’t they?And yet… eighteen years of supernatural denial still hadn’t adequately prepared Vyvyan for this. He hadn’t really anticipated a ghostly bottom being shoved through his face on his first week of working in the library, nor the disgustingly girly feelings that came with it.
Relationships: Vyvyan Basterd/Rick (Young Ones)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Stereotypical Spirits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incineratethelimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incineratethelimes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Can’t Stop Checking You Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312127) by [incineratethelimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incineratethelimes/pseuds/incineratethelimes). 



> Hello! Finally posting something in 2021! And it's possibly the darkest thing I've written for this fandom so far! Never fear, although the tags look pretty miserable, this isn't an entirely miserable fic. I'm mainly cautioning for the fact that Rick and Neil are ghosts and that Vyvyan is going to develop a rather morbid obsession with reanimation...
> 
> I was gifted this prompt a month ago by incineratethelimes so I hope you enjoy! There will be more chapters... not quite sure how many yet but at least a few. I don't think this will be super long but I do have a few things I'd like to explore. As you probably noticed, this chapter is quite short. I'm going to try and stick around the 1000 word mark per chapter for this fic but we'll see. I'm also not entirely sure when updates will come (no regular schedule, basically) as I'm also working on Dizzie Lizzie, some Tumblr prompts, uni work, fanzine stuff... the list goes on! That said, I will try not to let this languish for months on end.
> 
> And I'll be honest, this may be a little rusty. I think it'll get better as I get more into it. I plotted and then replotted this fic a whole bunch of times and I'm trying to dump ghost lore in where it's appropriate and not just randomly. Apologies for any OOCness! As I'm writing mostly from Vyvyan's POV, it's a little more challenging for me (my go to is Rick XD).
> 
> But anyway, as I said earlier, I hope you enjoy! Please drop me a comment if you're intrigued! :D

At first it was just voices in the library: nothing more than badly concealed, irate whispers that seemed to dissipate into silence whenever Vyvyan rounded another aisle of bookcases.

He knew they were watching him and likely listening out for anything he might say too. That was, whenever they paused in their echoing mutters to pay attention to him. Was this violation of his privacy annoying? Yes, increasingly so. Was there anything that could be done about it? Unfortunately, punching didn’t work in these cases. Really, Vyvyan should have expected this eventuality when the university’s governing board had told him he’d be working in the main library. It was too much of a stereotype, he had doggedly told himself, _far_ too much of a stereotype to come across one of _them_ in a library. _Come on!_ Libraries were the breeding ground for boring and old things – not to mention secrets of all kinds. But stereotypes existed for a reason, didn’t they? Just his bloody luck…

The voices followed Vyvyan as he roughhoused his way around one of Scumbag College’s most decrepit buildings – scuffing every item of dark and woodworm infested furniture that came within two metres of his doc martens; adding new stains to the already discoloured carpet whenever he opened a new can of coke; and damaging every weary book by sheer indifference and his _oh so charming_ habit of taking bites out of them when he was hungry. The voices gave Vyvyan an audience for this dull show of his but would he would rather have been left alone. Especially when it came to _them_. In fact, even an ignorant belief that he was indeed alone – the way most people lived their lives – would have been preferable to his situation. Yet, no matter how many times he hit himself over the head with heavy objects, his awareness of the extraordinary ability he possessed never faded.

So Vyvyan knew as he went about his duties, carelessly shoving copies of Dickens in with Freud and Marx in with Shakespeare, that Scumbag’s library was haunted. Even if he hadn’t felt the familiar tell-tale tingle that signalled ghostly presences as he set foot over the threshold on the first Monday – which he _had_ felt, joy of joys – the bastards weren’t exactly doing a good job of concealing themselves. Vyvyan was sure on Tuesday he’d caught a millisecond’s glimpse of a pair of dead, blue eyes. He could only hope that whoever they belonged to hadn’t realised that he could see them; he didn’t intend to enter adulthood with a newfound tolerance for dead people.

But sometimes things just happened.

On the first Thursday of what was shaping up to be a truly tedious premiere week of work, Mike left work before Vyvyan and therefore left lock up duties to him. Mike was about the closest thing the library had to a librarian, although the label didn’t really fit him. For starters, he seldom interacted with the university populace: books appeared to be taken out and returned as students pleased, which Vyvyan thought was a bit of a risky system, though it would suit his aversion to small talk and all that bollocks to a T whilst he was here. Instead, Mike spent most of his work time inside a little office connected to the library, presumably monitoring the CCTV footage.

Although, to be honest, after meeting the man and getting to know his rather laidback yet appearance conscious state of being, Vyvyan did have to wonder what was _actually_ going on inside that office. It didn’t intrigue him enough for him to think to intrude in Mike’s space – Vyvyan had fast developed what he suspected was some form of _fondness_ for Mike after he hadn’t batted so much as an eyelid his _delinquent_ mishap. Nevertheless, he _was_ curious.

But, more urgently, on that Thursday evening he was _hungry_ and for something that didn’t taste like dust and mouldy paper. The kebab shop on the high street was practically _singing_ and, as daylight was vanishing rapidly and the bodiless voices were still wittering from just beyond his line of vision, this was all the more reason for Vyvyan to hurry up with the last few books he had to put away and _go_. It was when he was crouching down to slide the last one into a space he had spotted – and it Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_ , as it happened – that something spooky finally happened. Something that would yield truly exciting results, even if Vyvyan couldn't yet know it.

For a moment, he almost didn’t notice the ghostly arse lodged in the middle of his forehead. _Almost_. Then he realised that his star studs felt inexplicably cooler against his skin and _BOOM!_ The sensation of something dead and yet still present being nearby – a sensation he struggled to describe in his _head_ , let alone with his _tongue_ – exploded inside his skull like a batch of highly powered fireworks, rendering him temporarily stunned. The strength, the intensity, the vividness… no ghost had _ever_ been this close to Vyvyan before!

And _oh_ _fuck_ ; it actually felt _good!_

_“Neil!”_

An indignant, panicked cry interrupted the moment of madness and jerked Vyvyan back into reality, where he leapt to his feet almost defensively. Now, _that_ posh little whine was certainly more than undistinguishable whispering. That was quite loud; might have even given Vyvyan’s larynx a run for its money. The coldness left his forehead as the phantom perpetrator jumped aside.

“You ruddy idiot!” the ghost squeaked out in utter panic.

“Sorry, Rick, man, I just got, like, distracted,” a different voice responded.

“I mean, _blummin’ Christ_ , did you _see_ where my bottom ended up then!? _Did you!?_ ”

“Yeah, I did. It went right through-”

Vyvyan chucked the copy of _Frankenstein_ still in his hand at the two figures’ legs – it passed through them unchallenged. Ah. So he was definitely in the presence of spirits then, his senses hadn’t deceived him. The duo turned towards him at the sudden action and he took them in, heart rammed embarrassingly far up his throat.

The one who until very recently had had his bottom stuck through Vyvyan’s head was about his height, maybe a smidge taller, with a mess of brown, fluffy looking hair, quite notable acne and manically expressive blue eyes. The same blue eyes Vyvyan was sure he’d seen on Tuesday, he realised with a jolt. Bloody hell, what was getting into him?

The second ghost was taller still with lank, dark hair that reached his chest, dark eyes and a deeply engrained moroseness about his face. Both looked about Vyvyan’s age and were wearing _criminally_ old-fashioned uniforms. Dead students? Ones who had been dead a while by the looks of things, if they’d been here when _uniforms_ were required. The tingles Vyvyan was getting from them now weren’t as strong without the physical – was it truly physical? – contact but he was pretty certain they were still stronger than they’d been all week.

Something had to happen. His chest wouldn’t allow for this strange, silent stand-off to continue for much longer and – to be fair – this blue-eyed Rick didn’t look as though he was coping too well with it either. Vyvyan took a breath and scrunched up his face.

“Your bottom went through my head,” he just about managed to croak out.

What had he gotten himself into now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have ghostly contact! And Vyvyan... isn't completely hating it? Pervy. This was originally a little longer but Rivyan just started arguing and that wasn't really the aim. XD
> 
> Flashback coming in chapter 2!


	2. Lest We Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a flashback, as promised!
> 
> I managed to knock this one out quite quickly so I hope it's alright. This is from Rick's POV. We'll be back to more modern day (well, 1980s) chaos after this scheduled stop. If this wasn't a fic and therefore didn't feature characters we're already all familiar with, I'd probably have waited a little longer to start the flashbacks... buuuut we all know these bastards. XD
> 
> I've updated the tags to reflect this but trigger warning in this chapter for those with emetophobia.

_Scumbag College, North London, England, United Kingdom  
Monday 11th November 1918, 11pm_

_Well, this was just_ perfect _. The Great War – the war to end all bloody wars, so they had said – had officially been over for twelve hours and Rick Pratt_ still _hadn’t gotten a snog out of it! With all the celebrations that had broken out across campus, he didn’t think he was being too presumptuous in assuming he might finally be on for an amazing bit of rumpo. After all, it wasn’t as if Scumbag College was devoid of the fairer sex. Their presence here was the main reason Scumbag was likely never going to be considered one of the top universities… according to some dreadfully stuffy old people like the PM, who Rick certainly never agreed with on anything ever._

 _Still, girlies skipping about the quad or not, Rick was having a pretty boring peacetime so far. At one stage, he had even considered returning to his dormitory and starting that essay on Hamlet he had due in tomorrow. He hadn’t – he wasn’t completely potty – but it was the thought that counted. Things were getting_ serious _._

 _Of course, Rick’s dour disposition was in stark contrast to the rest of the occupants of the room he was currently moping in: the main library. All of the bookcases and piles of returned books had been pushed to the sides to create a vast, open space. Someone had even dragged in the big piano from the hall – someone a_ mite _bit more rebellious than Rick – and drunken numbers were being played by various students. Rick clapped for them whenever they finished because that was the respectable thing to do, even if they were ruddy awful._

_Most strangely of all, not a single lecturer seemed to care. According to Neil, when he had turned up at 12pm for their Monday talk, Dr Morrison had fallen about on the floor laughing at the prospect of teaching today and had sent him off to celebrate. Rick would have been there with Neil to witness this, only he had still been in bed. To be quite honest, he’d only found out the news about the war at 2pm._

_But that was still nine hours ago. Nine whole hours and absolutely_ nothing _had happened!_

_“Hello, Dicky!”_

_An excited, somewhat inebriated voice crashed out of nowhere to yell down Rick’s ear. He winced at the nickname – and at the volume – before turning to smile a rather thin smile at whoever suddenly wanted his attention._

_“It’s Richard. Hello.” He corrected them._

_Mary. Her brown eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, clearly_ majorly _squiffy._

_“Dicky, Dicky, Dicky!” she insisted with a shrill laugh, as if this was hilarious. “Did you… did you heeeaaar that the war’s finishhhed?”_

_Rick sighed to himself and picked at a piece of lint on his uniform – which he appeared to be the only person wearing._

_“No, Mary, I had_ no idea _that the guns fell silent at 11am this morning. Say, is that why we’re having a party?” He gestured around them both in fake wonderment._

_Mary’s head bobbed up and down._

_“’sss a good thing I told you then,” she pointed out._

_“Cripes almighty, it certainly is!” Rick agreed sarcastically, barely able to repress an eyeroll._

_In truth, he was ever so relieved that the war was over – apart from any of the other downsides that came with existing during a war, now that he was eighteen there had been a ruddy_ terrifying _chance that he’d be conscripted and forced off to France. Naturally, Rick had his excuses ready – perforated eardrum, if all else failed – and daddy had assured him that the likelihood of him being called up was low. He would make sure it was low. However, he hadn’t been particularly looking forward to being grouped in so closely with that conscientious objector crowd Neil associated with. Still, that was all academic now, wasn’t it?_

_“Dick… Dicky?”_

_He ground his teeth._

_“Yes?”_

_“You’re not… you’re not courting anyone, hmm?”_

_That pricked Rick’s attention. He raised an eyebrow; Mary_ was _a girl. He looked her up and down and realised, not only was her blonde hair all askew, she was also paler than usual and teetering in_ flats _. No, no, Rick couldn’t contemplate_ this _. That would be simply_ too wrong _. Besides, everyone knew what a sullied reputation Mary had. He sighed and backed away from her as discreetly as he could. His stomach was beginning to feel queasy, though Rick for the life of him couldn’t discern why. If Mary was suggesting what he thought she was… why was the offer of what he had been searching for all day scaring him silly?_

_“I… I have someone back home,” he lied with a smarmy smile._

_“Ughhhhh, she’ll never know!” Mary pointed out._

_And she was right: this non-existent girlfriend of Rick’s would never know. Yet, still, he found himself shaking his head and glancing around desperately for some kind of way out._

_“I-I wouldn’t be so sure!” he babbled._

_With a stumble, Mary had suddenly latched on to the front of his blazer. Thankfully, Rick found the power within him not to squeak in shock, despite the distinctly_ unsexy _noises now emanating from her._

_“Mary! Really, I-”_

_Some of the other students had begun to notice the two of them and were pointing in amusement. Rick felt his cheeks heaten as he tried to detach her from his clothing. Blummin’ Christ, she really wasn’t looking well, was she? Her skin was all clammy and_ eugh! _He_ definitely _didn’t fancy a snog from her!_

_“Dicky, I think I’m-”_

_Had she just_ burped? _Rick didn’t know much about love but he was sure that this wasn’t how people made themselves attractive to the opposite sex! He cringed away at the whiff._

_“I’m not interested, Mary!” he told her firmly, trying desperately to pry her hands off._

_A foreboding groan followed by very_ wet _spewing stopped Rick’s heart momentarily._

“OH GOD!”

 _She had thrown up on him! Nay, she had thrown up_ all over _him! It was as yellow as piss and not especially thick though, in his horror, Rick still noted bits of carrot not adorning his blazer, shirt and trousers. The smell was making him retch and the roars of laughter from unsympathetic students weren’t helping. This was disgusting!_

_“Uh… oh…” Mary slurred, finally falling to the floor and curling up in a puddle of her own sick._

_The picture of dignity at Scumbag College._

_Rick stared at her with complete incredulity, his arms raised up so that he was dripping her alcoholic stomach contents_ everywhere _. Unfortunately, Mary appeared to have nothing to say for herself, having already passed out where she lay. It seemed he was going to have to face the music on his own for this one._

_“I never knew you were such a catch, Pratt!” a decidedly unfriendly voice called out._

_Rick scurried away from the centre of the scene almost fearfully, to the consequence of increasing laughter and jeers. He peered up at the people he was supposed to class as_ equals _with a horrid mixture of misery and loathing. It would have been fantastic if some form of witty retort had seen fit to present itself to his tongue at this point but his mind remained scrambled and erratic. So, instead of even_ trying _to save the situation, Rick simply bolted from the library, more laughter chasing him as he went._

 _“BLOODY HELL, IT’S_ WARM!” _he found himself shrieking across the darkened quad as he ran –_ torpedoed _may have been a more accurate descriptor – towards the men’s shower rooms and dorms._

 _He had absolutely_ no _idea how his reputation was going to recover from this! Mary had gone ahead and ruined him in one night! What a ruddy_ pathetic _way to mark the end of the war!_

_Tragically for Rick Pratt, although he didn’t know it at the time, his reputation wasn’t to be the only thing that would never recover from this…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun times for Rick, as usual. XD
> 
> Mary is based on the Mary Rick is trying to tell Mike and Vyvyan about at the beginning of Bambi - Yellow Pages. ;) She isn't really supposed to look like anybody in particular... although I did have Dawn's character (Tracy) from Bad News Tour on my mind for some reason. Mary is probably posher though, since she's at uni in 1918. Even a uni like Scumbag College. XD
> 
> Any of you who've read the prompt this is based on will already know what kills Rick and Neil. That said, I'm, still going to pretend it's all very mysterious until they pop their clogs in another flashback.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


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